


kiss it better?

by mssjynx



Category: Banana Bus Squad, Gay baby gang
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Aging, Alternate Universe - Children, Angst, Best Friends, Boys Kissing, Character Death, Cute Kids, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forehead Kisses, Friends to Lovers, Heart Attacks, Hospitals, Kissing, Love, M/M, Medical, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, if you dont want the sad, just read the first part and its all a happy lil 5+1 fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 05:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15988961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssjynx/pseuds/mssjynx
Summary: 5 times john kissed jaren's injury better, and the 1 time jaren kissed john's.[ or the one time he couldn't. ]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> seriously if you're in for the fluff. just read the first part. if you're in for the full story, read both. i love how it turned out. i think it's okay. i might be wrong who knows but i really hope you guys like this.  
> please please tell me what you think of this one!!

 

1.

At five years old, John didn’t really understand the concept of pain. Yes, he knew what it was like to be hurt: he’d been bitten by bugs which stung, and ran into walls or chairs which made his legs feel funny. A bad funny. But the concept of pain accompanied by blood was not well known to John.

He was always a careful kid.

But he couldn’t say the same for his “partner in crime”, as his mother said. (he didn’t totally understand what that meant but he knew it was something like being best friends.)

He was told that Jaren was family, but at the same time not. Like how his mum and Jaren’s mum were kind of sisters, but not _really_ sisters. He didn’t really get it but he knew that whatever it meant: like their mothers, Jaren was going to become John’s best friend to!

And the two were inseparable since, John turned two and Jaren, only a month later, turned one. John adored Jaren from the beginning, even if the boy was still really small and could only say a few words and liked to stare at John a lot… the idea that he had his very own best friend! John could get used to the staring.

Which he did! Of course, it got easier when he turned three, and Jaren turned two. When Jaren could talk almost as well as John could, they could talk about everything and anything! It was a lot more fun having someone who talked back than just talking to someone who only knew a few words.

When John turned five and Jaren turned four, John came to realise just how excited and enthusiastic of a child Jaren was. He was always running and jumping and laughing, and once you got him talking it was impossible to get him to stop. John came to love the sound of his best friend’s laugh. What John didn’t like was the sound of Jaren crying.

He discovered this one afternoon at the local playground. Tag was their favourite game and although John was older and bigger and stronger than Jaren, the younger was quick on his feet.

But he was clumsy. With John on his tail and giggles tumbling from his wide grin, he glanced over his shoulder for only a second and caught his foot on a dip in the footpath.

He fell and John skidded to a stop, dropping to his knees beside his friend. Jaren sat, holding his legs with tears streaming down his cheeks.

He gasped for a second. Then let his head back and wailed. John flinched at the sound and the hysterical sobbing that followed. His auntie (but not his real auntie) shot up and across the grass towards her injured son.

“Jaren, are you okay?” It felt stupid but he didn’t know enough words to help his friend feel better. The crying boy shook his head, his hands shaking as he cried. John noticed the dirty scratched up skin on the knee of his friend. Little spots of red showed themselves and he frowned.

It definitely looked like it hurt but Jaren was swept up by his mother before John could try and do anything more for him.

He got back to his feet and followed after his friend and his auntie who sat at the nearest bench, the pretty woman bouncing her son on her knee and making soft soothing sounds. Jaren sniffled and sobbed still, holding onto his mother’s shirt.

She pulled a band-aid out of her purse, placing it carefully over the injured patch of skin. She kissed him on the head and spoke a few quiet words to him. He sniffled, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he nodded.

She set him back on his feet and he shuffled back over to John, cheeks red and wet and nose runny. He wiped his face with his shirt.

“Does it hurt a lot?” John asked, tugging Jaren’s hands until he dropped down to sit on the grass in front of him. The older boy was careful about stretching his friend’s leg out to see his knee. The band-aid had little tiger stripes along it.

Jaren sniffled and nodded, a few more fat tears dripping down his cheeks.

John thought for a second, wondering how he could help cheer his friend up. Thinking of how his mother always helped him feel better, he lit up with an idea. “Oh!” Jaren watched him, pout still on his full lips but curiosity in his eyes. “My mummy says that kissing somethin’ that hurts will make the hurt go away!” He explained, watching his friend closely to make sure he understood.

The boy hesitated, sniffling. “Does it?” He asked, rocking back and forward slightly.

John nodded, knowing from his own limited experiences that his mother’s kisses always made him feel better! No matter what. “Here,” he said. Leaning down and holding onto Jaren’s leg to keep him still. Very, very carefully, he pressed his lips to the tiger band-aid, holding for a moment before leaning back and letting him go.

He studied his friend carefully, Jaren watching him in return. He hadn’t grown out of the staring yet.

“Does it hurt?” John asked hopefully.

Jaren stared for a second longer, brows furrowing with a frown and he glanced down at his hurt knee. Slowly, he shook his head and the discovery had a smile pulling at his lips, pout vanishing. “Thank you.” He sniffed, smile wobbly as John helped him up onto his feet.

The older boy glanced back to the big rope structure in the middle of the playground. He turned to Jaren with a grin. “I bet you can’t beat me to the top,” he sung, backing towards it.

Jaren’s eyes lit up, grin mirroring John’s. “I bet I will!” He dared right back and let out a squeal of laughter as the two took off towards the red netting.

 

 

2.

The second time John heard Jaren cry out of pain like that again was two years later. On easter evening, six year old Jaren was (unsurprisingly) fleeing a devious John and happened to (also unsurprisingly) not be watching where he was going.

He ran into his mother’s leg, catching them both by surprise and sending the scalding tea in her hands down his arm.

His shriek had John cowering.

All he could do was, again, follow his auntie who rushed Jaren to the shower and stripped him of his half tea-stained clothes. He didn’t find the icy cold water pleasant at all and John watched with guilty eyes and a frown. Seeing his best friend in pain wasn’t easy or nice.

But after a long five minutes that felt like an hour, Jaren’s crying had stifled and the stream of cold water soothing the offended skin had done its job. His mother tugged him out of the shower and threw a towel over him.

“You have to be more careful in the house,” she chided, glancing at John who ducked his head in guilt. “Both of you.”

He nodded and Jaren tugged the towel off his face, meeting eyes with his friend.

“Now hurry to your room, boys and we’ll call you down for dinner soon. I’ll bring you up an ice-pack, sweetie.”

They both nodded and rushed to Jaren’s room, the hurt boy holding his towel around him. John pulled out some pants and a shirt for his friend who sat on the edge of his bed with that same pout on his face.

“Does it hurt less?” Timid and concerned. He placed the clothes on the bed beside Jaren who stood to shimmy into them. He hesitated with the shirt.

“A little bit.” John fiddled with the shirt, holding the sleeve open so it didn’t graze against the burnt arm. Jaren accepted the help and sat back on the bed as his mother stepped into the room.

She handed the ice pack to John, trusting the boy to know enough. “Dinner in five, call out if you need me, okay?” After two heads nodded, she shut the door behind her.

John climbed onto the mattress, sitting in the centre and waiting for Jaren to face him. He pulled at the hand of the injured arm and took a closer look at the rosy skin.

“Can I touch it?” He asked, voice quiet. After a second Jaren nodded. John leant forward on his knees, balancing with one hand and holding Jaren’s arm with the other. He brought it higher, ducking his head and pressing a determined kiss to the curve of the boy’s shoulder. He drew back, offering a kind smile to the teary brown eyes. “That should hurt a little less,” he said, wrapping the icepack in the thin cloth it was delivered with.

He placed it very carefully against Jaren’s skin, his unaffected hand coming up to hold it in place.

“The pain will go away soon,” John promised.

Jaren’s eyes were piercing. “It already did.” John blinked and Jaren nodded in confirmation. “When you kissed it. It stopped hurting then.”

“Oh.” A smile tugged at John’s lips. Jaren wasn’t hurting anymore! “Awesome!” He exclaimed, unable to hide the joy for his friend.

It seemed that joy was contagious as the grin John wore brought a smile to Jaren’s lips to as the smaller nodded. “Thank you, John!” He sung, swaying from side to side and hardly noticing the ice pack he held to his arm.

John nodded. “You gotta be more careful though,” he said, serious for a moment. “I don’t like it when you get hurt.” The boy nodded without hesitation.

“I will,” he promised, and John smiled.

He opened his mouth to add something more but didn’t get it out as his mother called from the main room. “Boys! Dinner time!”

Jaren let John pull him off the bed. “Race you!” He dared, bolting to the door instantly as John let out a giggle.

“Be careful!” He called after him as the six year old zipped out of the room. He followed in hot pursuit.

 

 

3.

They both went to the same elementary school. Their parents walked them there in the morning together and dropped them off at the park after school.

And despite the one year difference between them, they remained close as ever. John sat with a group of boys in his class, boys who were funny and carefree and used words John hadn’t heard before. He really liked them and they were happy to allow him into their group too.

Jaren wasn’t so lucky. The little brunette wasn’t so good at making friends. In grade one, grade two; he just didn’t mix with the students in his classes and often sat alone while doing his work.

His favourite parts of the day were lunch and recess.

John remembered how his four class friends shrugged their shoulders when he asked if his friend from the year below could hang out with them on breaks. They didn’t care much for it.

“As long as he’s not annoying,” Cam had said, sliding down the slide and throwing a rock at toby on the swings.

Toby threw it back, commenting with a sly grin: “But Mason’s already really annoying so I’m sure he can’t be that bad.”

The mentioned boy cried out in offense from where he’d somehow gotten himself stuck in the monkey-bar rings. Jay giggled, dancing around below him and poking him with a stick.

John had taken that as a “go ahead” and excitedly brought Jaren with him to the older playground at lunch the next day. No one else spent time there.

And despite Jaren’s quiet anxiety about being with older kids and trying to make friends again, it only took him one week to adjust to the silly boys who acted much alike John in some ways. Soon enough he was laughing and running and playing with them like there was no age difference at all.

They all loved to play tag.

It was one of those lunch-times, Mason howling with laughter as Jaren ran Jay in circles around the playground. Those two were the fastest but Jaren was just unbeatable.

John sat atop the slide, smiling and watching his best friend get tackled onto the grass. The beaming boy had never looked so happy at school.

Two loud barks split the moment, dragging John’s attention to the blur of white bolting across the grass from the road-side of the oval. His eyes widened, Jay climbing off Jaren and helping him up. Jaren’s back was to the dog. John could see bared teeth gleaming.

“Jaren, watch out!”

There wasn’t much else he could have done as the dog jumped up and locked his teeth around Jaren’s forearm. The boy screamed.

All the boys jumped to their feet, Jay stumbling back in surprise as John flew down the slide. “Get off him!” John shouted, running to his friend who fell to his knees as the dog yanked the thin arm back and forth.

The growling was vicious, drooling over the limb as an ugly red colour bloomed between its teeth. The sound of Jaren’s shrieking made John go cold but he didn’t falter.

“Get! Off!” John snapped, skidding to a stop beside the dog who growled louder. He threw one hand over the dog’s nose and the other beneath his jaw, curling his fingers into the spaces between the sharp canines. “Let go, you stupid mutt!” With as much effort as he could, he pulled at the dog’s jaws.

Irritated, the dog let go and John hastily pushed him away before he could attack him instead.

“Away!” He yelled and the dog growled one last time before darting off with bloody teeth.

Jaren cried loudly, reaching one hand towards John as comfort. His big eyes were scared and hurt. Cam and Jay kneeled either side of him.

“C’mon boys. Get him up,” Cam instructed and he and John fit their arms underneath the wounded boy. Jaren cradled his arm, sobbing loudly. “Go run to the nurse and tell her. We’ll be right behind you.”

With a short nod, Jay sprinted off and John looked helplessly at Jaren half in his arms. “Just breathe, Jaren. The nurse will help!”

As quickly as they could move they half-carried, half-ran the wailing second-grader to the quad. Other students looked on but it wasn’t long before they were sitting him on a chair in the nurse’s office and she was examining and cleaning and wrapping up his arm.

Cam recounted the story to her and she tsked at the mention of the dog. John sat by Jaren’s side, holding his hand tightly. He felt scared too.

Seeing a dog attack his friend like that… he was trying not to cry himself. Jaren cried for a while as the blood was washed away. The teeth marks were angry and ugly, John unable to imagine their pain as he watched the white bandage wrap around and around and around the thin arm.

“Hold it there now, dear. It’ll be all okay now. I’ll go call your mummy so sit tight,” she assured him and he nodded.

A sad sniff. Cam and Jay perched on two chairs by the door, muttering about something John didn’t care for. Jaren shifted on the bed to face him more, uninjured hand trembling.

“John, it hurts.” Jaren’s stare was matched with pouting lips and furrowed brows. It was pained and John struggled to hold eye contact. “Can you- can you make it stop?” He whispered, voice strained as new tears fell from his eyes.

John watched one, watched it trail all the way down his cheek and fall from his chin. His hands moved careless to the curious watches of Cam and Jay as he tenderly raised Jaren’s elbow. He ducked his head and pressed his lips to the bandage.

He drew back and Jaren shuffled closer, resting his forehead on John’s shoulder, chest heaving. There were no other words shared, no need for them. John wrapped his arms around his friend and rubbed his back.

 

 

4.

To say Jaren was an excitable boy was an understatement. His energy didn’t dim as he reached double digits. No, it only grew throughout his first decade as he realised there was so much more of the world to explore every day

When he was eleven, in grade six, he and John simply could not be separated. They walked to school together each morning, spent breaks with one another (and Cam’s crew), and then wandered around the suburb together all afternoon until dinner. They were joined at the hip; it was so normal that to see one boy without the other was an anomaly.

One of their favourite things to do after school especially was to race one another to the park across the road, dump their school bags by the bench and climb up into the “dragon tree” as they dubbed it.

There they would sit for hours and talk about all sorts of things. Their conversations varied everyday, both boys interested in anything and everything. John loved, most of all, the conversations where Jaren would get really excited about something. The ones where he would talk on and on about a topic he adored and the giddiness glowed in his eyes.

It was a particular thursday afternoon where he scaled the tree after Jaren, finding his designated “seat” in the criss-crossed branches. He watched Jaren shuffle along the thin dipped branch to the place he usually sat, leaning back against another limb of wood and letting his legs swing back and forth.

John didn’t get even one word out before Jaren launched into a story of how his teacher had been yelling at one of his classmates and how she had turned around too quick and split her dress down the back. The boy spoke quickly and dramatically, hands gesturing to express his enthusiasm. The way Jaren spoke was something John had become very fluent in understanding; something a lot of other kids their age didn’t bother with. He spoke too fast for most to follow or care to listen to.

John could never get tired of listening to his friend talk. It was a shock to him when Jaren cut himself off mid-sentence and fell silent, as though considering something for a long moment. When he glanced up to John’s patient eyes, he frowned.

“Hey John, am I annoying?”

A question that the twelve year old wasn’t expecting. The surprise was evident as he blinked, a frown forming.

Jaren nodded. “Like- do I talk too fast? I talk too much… because y’know no one really wants to talk to me except you. So I think I must really annoy people.” His explanation brought no reassurance to John, who felt a low heavy feeling form in his tummy. Jaren cocked his head to the side. “Do I annoy you?”

“You only annoy me when you walk around my room touching everything,” John said, frown still locked in place despite the comment. “You don’t annoy me with your talking Jaren.” _I love to hear you talk about things_. Something stopped him from speaking that thought aloud.

Jaren shrugged. “But you’ve been with me since I was, like, four. Other people don’t like me.”

“Since you were one, actually,” John corrected, “and people do like you! It’s just the kids in your year aren’t as nice. Cam and Jay and the rest of the guys like you. If they didn’t they would tell you to piss off.”

A soft hum. Unconvinced. “Yeah I guess. Still, if I’m annoying you… you’d tell me, yeah?”

“I will, Ren.”

John smiled and after a few moments, Jaren returned it. The boy lit up, a thought striking him. His chocolatey eyes locked onto John.

“Do you like any girls!” Excitement bubbled in his words once again and, alike many other conversations the two shared, the last topic vanished from Jaren’s mind in seconds.

It was another question John definitely wasn’t expecting. Girls? "I’ve never really thought about ‘em.” There was no confusion with the subject change: John had adapted to the fast-paced, confusing conversations Jaren liked to lead a long time ago.

Jaren nodded absent-mindedly. His eyes remained on John’s face, partially zoned out in thought. It was a habit John was used to. So maybe the boy wasn’t going to grow out of his staring after all: John didn’t care.

“Mason talks about them a lot and likes to point out the ones he thinks are the prettiest. He likes girls with blonde hair and big eyes and he likes it when they laugh at his jokes.” The rambling filled John’s mind and the boy realised just how little thought he gave to the girls in their school. He never really cared for them and they never cared to talk to him either. "And y’know that Matt got a girlfriend too!! And he’s only in your year so- so maybe that means that I could get a girlfriend next year when I'm his age too! Do you want a girlfriend? Matt was saying how they ask for a lot of attention but having a pretty girl next to you makes you cooler, he said. I think Matt’s really cool. I want a girlfriend.”

John listened, nodding along. He didn’t often spare his thoughts to girls and girlfriends. He didn’t dislike girls. There were a few that he found funny and spoke to in class, but he hadn’t ever looked at them any different; he just liked to hang out with the boys so much more.

“Matt was saying how he and his girlfriend _kissed_ too! Do you wanna _kiss_ girls?” Jaren was full of unexpected questions.

"I don’t wanna kiss anyone.” Blunt and honest. John had no care for that stuff. He was happy without it.

Jaren frowned. "You kiss me.”

Oh. _Oh._ "W-well, uh- that’s different, Ren.”

"How?” There was nothing less than complete innocent curiosity in the boy’s eyes. And at twelve years old, John was reminded again how the boy somehow seemed so much more than only one year younger.

"It just is.”

"Mum says you’re supposed to kiss people you fall in love with to show them that you love them. Do you kiss me because you love me? Is it love that stops pain?”

John blinked, the questions almost becoming philosophical. They were totally open and expecting. Like John would clearly know the answer to all of Jaren’s questions. "Well, I don’t- Ren, I love you because you’re my best friend, my brother.” Jaren nodded, brushing his brown fluffy hair back out of his face. "But I don’t love you like you’re supposed to love a girlfriend.”

"But you still kiss me.”

"Not on the mouth!”

"Ohh.” Jaren nodded slowly, as though completely realising his mistake. He fell silent for a few moments. "Do you kiss anyone else like you kiss me?”

John’s head fell to his hands, grinning stupidly at their silly conversation. Jaren giggled but still waited, watching his friend shake his head. "No, Jaren. I only kiss you.”

When John lifted his head, he noticed the thoughtless smile on Jaren’s face. The boy was watching him, like usual. But thankfully that seemed to be the end of the unusual conversation.

At least it did. Jaren leaned forward, hands gripping the branch he sat on. "Do you wan-” his grin vanished, lips parting in a gasp as his balance tilted that inch too far.

John watched in horror as the boy’s arms flew forward, body tipping, but found nothing to catch himself with. He fell, and shrieked as his shoulder hit the ground, rolling onto his back. “Jaren!” John gasped, a moment passing where the park held its breath before Jaren let out a scream, pain sinking in.

John was quick to swing onto a lower branch and drop to his feet. Jaren’s loud panting gave away the presence of a problem. When the boy very slowly rolled over onto his uninjured side, John realised there was _definitely_ a problem because Jaren’s shoulder wasn’t supposed to look like that.

Jaren’s eyes squeezed shut. “John, John, it hurts-”

"Hey, hey, you’re okay! You’re okay!” John fell to his knees beside his friend, cupping his face in his hands. “Jaren, hey- hey, listen to me! Focus on me!”

Jaren’s chest heaved, panting hard and fast with eyes blown wide. Terror shone in his eyes, face crumpling in the agony that radiated from his shoulder. His hand shook, not knowing whether to touch the injury or not. Dark eyes lifted, pleading. His shaking fingers grabbed a hold of John’s shirt.

John had to force his eyes away from the clearly displaced bone, glancing back over his shoulder. He pulled out the little flip-phone his mother gave him, fumbling with the keypad. Hitting the three numbers, he pressed call.

Jaren was shaking like a leaf, his gasps devolving into sobs and cries.

"Hi, uh- hi, my… yes, my friend has a, uh, his shoulder is um- broken? Or dislocated?” He stammered, pushing his fingers through Jaren’s hair and keeping eye contact with him.

“John- John, John, John, it’s- it’s burning, it h-hurts so much, John-“ Tears rushed down his cheeks. He leaned forward, face pressing to John’s shoulder but careful not to move his arm. "Please- please, do something!”

John curled his spare arm around Jaren’s back, holding him close as he murmured: "It’s okay, it won’t hurt for long, okay? Just breathe. Breathe, Jaren.” He turned his attention back to the phone, listening to the woman explaining that an ambulance was on their way and what to do with Jaren while they waited.

He could hear the sirens. But he couldn’t stop focusing on Jaren.

"Jo-ohn,” Jaren wailed, whining against John’s shoulder. "Please he- help. Can you- kiss it, can you- can you stop it hurting. Please, John-”

The sirens were close enough. John dropped the phone and faced Jaren, on his knees. "Shh,” he soothed, running a hand through his hair again. "You’re gonna be okay, it’s okay.” Jaren held his shoulder at a distance, injured arm shaking like a leaf. It was painful to even see the injury. His hands held Jaren still, by his neck and hip. Very, very carefully, he leant down and pressed his lips to the arch of muscle between Jaren’s neck and dislocated shoulder.

Jaren shuddered, head hanging and returning to hide his face in John’s neck. His whimpering continued but no other words passed through his lips and he didn’t show any other signs of increasing distress or anything of the sort.

And then the ambulance arrived. John practically zoned out as they got Jaren into the back. He followed, half-listening to what the paramedic said and answering questions that were asked. He didn’t let go of Jaren’s hand.

Jaren didn’t stop crying, but his wailing and shrieking slowly dimmed. Whenever things felt too much, his eyes returned to John.

But that time went faster than John believed. They were driven to the hospital, meeting both John and Jaren’s parents there and lead up to a room where Jaren was taken. John didn’t let anyone take him away from Jaren. He didn’t let go of his hand. He didn’t stop reassuring him.

Jaren remained quiet, eyes either closed or watching John closely.

Time slowed down back to its normal pace when the nurses had given Jaren pain medication and gone off to make decisions about what they were going to do. They weren’t sure exactly how his shoulder had dislocated and the nurses had said it wasn’t going to be easily popped back into place.

All they could do for the moment was relieve the pain and keep him as comfortable as possible. That meant medication, family and John by his side.

The door shut behind the nurse and Jaren’s parents, leaving John and Jaren to themselves. "Hey,” John murmured, Jaren blinking lazily. "How’re you feeling?”

Jaren’s teeth clenched, jaw locked as if ready to be hit. He managed a nod, that being all.

John squeezed his hand, not knowing how else to help. "I’ll be right here until you’re all fixed up, okay?”

Jaren nodded. "Thank you,” he mumbled. John smiled. "F- for stopping the pain,” he cut in, making sure to get his message across through soft gasps and sobs. "When I- when I asked… you to. Before. Thank you-“

"Shh, it’s okay,” John said. "Did it help the pain?” He asked, voice almost a whisper in his hope.

Jaren smiled, weak and tired. He nodded. No more words.

John had none either. Just a smile.

 

 

5.

Jaren’s first relationship lasted four months. It was a surprisingly long time for a fourteen year old but despite his childish personality, he was rather mature when it became important. Getting a girlfriend became important very quickly.

And despite John having never been interested in dating anyone and having very little knowledge or experience, Jaren always came to him about everything. The first time they held hands around school, the first time she kissed his cheek.

The first time he kissed her on the lips under the dragon tree after school.

The two boys would have sleepovers where Jaren talked and talked and talked and talked about her. She seemed to be what occupied his mind most and John never complained. Why would he? Nothing made him happier than seeing his best friend so gleeful.

So when he got a text from the boy inviting him over for the night, he wondered what new thing may have happened between Jaren and his girlfriend.

He couldn’t wait to be pulled inside by the excitable boy, grin on his face with a story to tell.

But that didn’t happen. The door opened slowly and John saw no grin, no excitement in those big dark eyes. He didn’t get pulled inside. He didn’t even get greeted.

Jaren’s eyes stayed on the floor as John stepped inside and shut the door. He followed upstairs in silence.

"We broke up,” he mumbled, sitting on his bed against the wall with his knees to his chest. John felt the pain in those three words as he climbed atop the mattress too. He watched tears roll down Jaren’s cheeks with pain in his heart.

"Oh.” He didn’t know what to do. "I’m… I'm sorry, Ren. I-…” what could he say?

Thankfully, Jaren didn’t want words. He crawled slowly over to John who didn’t hesitate to pull him in. Tears soaked his shirt. John held him, arms tight around his friend, and let him cry for as long as he needed. That’s what John was for. He was a good friend. He cared about Jaren more than anything else.

He would always be there when Jaren needed him.

"I don’t- I-“ he sobbed, breaking up his own words. Speaking with that much pain in his heart: it wasn’t easy. John waited as his body jolted with every sob. "I don’t know what I- what I did wrong.”

With those words, any last remaining foundation that was holding the pain back crumbled. He cried harder than he ever had before. He felt a pain stronger than he ever had before. Nothing could compare to heartbreak. Not a scraped knee. Or burnt arm. Not being bitten by a dog or falling out of a tree. No. This pain was unbeatable.

John could feel that. "You did nothing wrong, Jaren. It just didn’t work out.”

Jaren shook his head, face pressed to John’s chest. He shook uncontrollably, cried uncontrollably; every gasp for air was desperate and pained. Everything he did, every move, every sound. It was agonised.

“Jaren,” he murmured. The crying boy didn’t respond. John’s touch was tender as he placed his hands on Jaren’s shoulders and eased him back so he could meet the boy’s eyes. Pain, pain, pain. "Hey,” he whispered, offering a sad smile. "I know it hurts, Ren. I know.” Jaren sobbed, lip wobbling. His eyes were red. Tears stained his cheeks. "It’ll hurt for a little bit too. But it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun tonight, okay? I know you’re sad. I know it sucks. So let’s not think about it, let’s forget about everything else going on right now. And we can eat ice cream, you can kick my ass in MarioKart: we’ll have a good night.” He held Jaren’s stare as he spoke, rubbing a thumb along the bone of his shoulder. "Does that sound okay?”

A moment of thought, stifled sobs. Tears continued to streak down rosy cheeks. "Okay,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

John smiled, pushing messy brown hair out of Jaren’s eyes. "Okay,” he repeated. His hand came to rest on the side of his friend’s face, running his thumb across the wet cheekbone. His heart ached for his brother and it felt natural for him to lean forward and press his lips to Jaren’s forehead. "I love you, Jaren.”

The younger boy took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment and curling his fingers gently around John’s wrist, steadying himself. When he reopened them, he softened, leaning into John’s touch. "I love you too.”

It was magical how a simple kiss could dull the pain in his heart like a pain-killer could kill a headache. It was magical how the night dragged on and on for all the right reasons and how Jaren couldn’t take his mind off how gentle John’s touch was, how gentle it always was. It was magical how while falling asleep beside his friend, his mind barely touched on his broken heart and couldn’t seem to get over the way John had kissed his forehead.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

 

 

+1 [a]

Jaren had fallen ill over the weekend. It was less than convenient due to the number of tests he had coming up in the following week but he couldn’t be too sad when his alternative was staying in bed all day playing games.

All he needed was a box of tissues, two water bottles, his comfy bed and his laptop.

On monday, John dropped by in the morning with some of Jaren’s favourite lollies and a few of his own games for his sick friend to indulge in. He messaged Jaren throughout the day, poking fun at teachers and other students and sending dumb photos of cam through to him in class. He came back to Jaren’s after school, sitting at a distance due to Jaren’s infection.

He may have adored his best friend, but… not that much.

The same went for tuesday and wednesday as Jaren fought off his illness. On thursday he claimed himself to be one hundred percent well again but his mother kept him in bed for one extra day, just to be sure.

Around lunchtime, messages from John stopped and Jaren’s snapchats remained unopened. Weird. Jaren didn’t really know what to think, but he expected John after school anyway so he was sure to have an explanation then. He plugged his headphones in and watched the lion king for the second time that week.

Hours later, there was a knock at his bedroom door and he placed his laptop aside, sitting up excitedly. "Come in!” As expected, John walked in. Unexpected was the two black eyes, split lip and bruising knuckles.

His excitement turned to shock. His shock turned to horror. His horror turned to anger. "You got into a fucking fight!?”

John closed the door behind him, snorting in amusement as though there was nothing out of the ordinary. "Nice to see you too, my day was brilliant, how was yours?” His tone was teasing, but a bad cover up. Jaren stumbled to his feet, grabbing John’s arm and shoving him down onto the bed.

"Sit.” The boy then fled the room, running to the bathroom and rifling through the cabinets. He dipped into the kitchen to grab an ice pack and returned to his room with a glare in his eyes.

John glanced up for Jaren’s laptop. "The Lion King? Didn’t you watch that on Monday?”

"Explain.” Jaren dragged his desk chair to the side of his bed, sitting in front of his best friend and dumping the mess of supplies on the bed. He grabbed the bandages, yanking John’s hand into his lap and examining the bruises and blood along his knuckles.

John sighed. "It’s not a big deal, Jar-“

“John,” he interrupted, slapping his shoulder lightly. "You look like you’ve been fucking curb-stomped. So damn explain before I curb-stomp you too.” He snatched up a tube of cream and began dabbing some across the split skin of his fist.

John’s smile faltered, but he tried to divert again. "I mean you can try kiss it better but, uh. That might be a lot of kissing, I dunno.”

“John,” Jaren countered.

The seventeen year old sighed. "Okay, fine,” he said. "Joel was talking shit at lunch. And- don’t give me that look, I know. It’s no different and I shouldn’t listen to him, but he was talking shit about me being some kind of- of _fag_ ”—he spat the word in digust. Jaren flinched—“because I paint my fucking nails. Which is like- whatever, I paint my nails, I’ve never given a shit about that and I don’t care what people think of me, I'm not upset about being called gay. But he kept saying that stupid word which really pissed me off – and I mean _really_. So you can imagine how fucking angry I got because he started talking about you, as well. And he was talking so loud, the whole cafeteria was listening and he was just grinning at me and talking about how much of a-… he was saying all these things about you while you weren’t there and then he started talking about how me and you are too close and how it’s so weird how I’ve never been with girls and how I'm so close with some tenth grader and I got so mad. He called you a faggot and a- a bitch, so I… punched him…” John met Jaren’s eyes as he finished, guilty and ashamed.

John had been in fights before. He didn’t like to make a habit of it but there had been situations where he’d fought for his own pride and to protect Jaren as well. He wasn’t afraid of a fight but his family and Jaren and his friends were all heavily against encouraging them.

Yet he wasn’t going to just sit back and let someone talk about his friend like that. Not Jaren.

Speaking of Jaren, said boy just stared. Sixteen years and he still hadn’t grown out of it. John had accepted that he wasn’t going to but still was never bothered. He’d punched people for making fun of Jaren for it, he’d do it again.

Jaren exhaled, conflicted in his mind about how to take the conversation as he tugged John forward by his collar. "How did Joel end up,” he asked. Blunt. Unmasked anger. But John grinned, allowing Jaren to apply the cream to his grazed cheek.

He chuckled. "Just wait until you see him tomorrow.” There was unmistakable pride in his words. "No asshole gets to say that shit without getting the shit beaten out of him. ‘nd if you think this is bad… hah. Just wait until you see him.”

Jaren felt a little guilty about smiling but he couldn’t help the slight bit of pride he held for his friend too. "You’re a fuckwad.”

"I know.” That goofy smile.

"And a dipshit.”

"Yep.”

"And an unbelievably stupid asshat.”

"Uh-huh.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he placed the little square bandage on John’s cheek. He hung his head for a moment, before glancing back up to analyse the pretty pale eyes which watched him with interest and patience. "What hurts the most?” He asked, voice almost timid.

It wasn’t often that John was the one getting hurt. Even in previous fights he got by unscathed more often than not and growing up he had a knack for remaining uninjured. Unlike Jaren, of course, who got hurt more times than any normal kid. It was always John taking care of him. To be taking care of John was… different.

But John’s goofy smile only grew. He raised a finger, tapping the newly placed bandage on his cheek. "Here hurts most.”

He stayed obediently still as Jaren lifted a hand to his face, cupping his uninjured cheek. Pretty pale eyes fell shut and John waited. A pair of cautious lips pressed a kiss atop the bandage and John’s eyes fell open in surprise at the warm tingle that spread across his skin.

Jaren swayed back, uncertain about whether he’d done his job right. His hand lingered against John’s face and before he could pull it back, John’s fingers reached up to take a hold of his wrist. He held Jaren’s hand in place, still cupping his face which turned rosy as Jaren’s eyes locked with his again.

"J- John?”

"I, uh-“ John swallowed, unable to look away and unwilling to let go of Jaren’s hand. He sucked in a deep breath. "You, uh- y’know my, uh… my lips. I think… yeah, my lips are kinda, um- they’re kinda hurting too? I thought that my cheek was hurting the most but i’ve… realised that it was actually my- my lips that are hurting… the most right-“

He didn’t get another word out as a grin flashed across Jaren’s face, big brown eyes rolling in amusement, before the younger boy leaned forward and shut him up with his own mouth.

It was magical just how perfectly their lips fit together.

They both felt it. Even just a simple chaste kiss, a pair of soft lips pressed firmly to a pair, roughed up and worried by teeth. One hand cupping a bruised face, the other threaded through hair in need of a cut. The warmth started at their lips, made their skin tingle, their chests tighten, their hearts beat that small bit faster.

Their lips parted, a moment of clarity. Foreheads pressed together. Jaren was half out of his chair, John’s hands on his arm and hip. And as they breathed in the moment, neither showed any sign of regret, any sign that that kiss hadn’t been absolutely perfect.

"Are you okay?” John whispered, fingers clutching Jaren’s shirt. Jaren’s tongue flicked out to moisten his lips, pale eyes tracking the movement.

The younger nodded, nose brushing against John’s. "Yeah. Are you?”

"Definitely.”

John shuffled back onto the bed more, pulling Jaren closer by his hips until he was sitting on his lap. Nothing stopped him from fitting their lips together again. Jaren shifted on his knees, getting comfortable as John coaxed his lips apart. Their kiss lost its chasteness. Jaren’s fingers lost themselves in John’s hair.

When they pulled apart for the second time it was for the necessity of oxygen and Jaren’s eyes opened wide in awe and surprise. His brain short-circuited, not a single legible thought running through his mind. John wore a breathless smile and Jaren had never felt so much for one person. They didn’t draw away, still breathing the same air. There was no need for words. There was no need for anything.

They had each other and with Jaren’s lips on his, John felt no pain at all.

 


	2. second ending

+1 [b]

 

Four days before his eighteenth birthday, Jaren was admitted to hospital. It was the second time in his life that he’d been in the back of an ambulance, but the first time that he’d been hooked up to oxygen. He’d fainted out in the city with his family after complaining about a growing chest pain. It was unexpected and worrying.

John got called out of work, apologising to his boss who waved him off and wished him well on whatever the emergency was. He thanked him and drove to the hospital as quickly as he could without running red lights or speeding.

The lady at the front ran Jaren’s name through her computer, giving him the room number and sending him off. She looked grim.

He raced down halls, sprinting up staircases in favour of waiting for elevators. When he got to Jaren’s room, he didn’t hesitate. “Jaren,” he breathed, chest heaving as the door swung shut behind him. The boy in the bed was asleep, but the sight of him sent John’s anxiety through the roof. His skin was a sickly colour. His eyes were sunken.

Jaren’s mother sat in the chair beside his bed, old eyes full of sadness and fear. She stood from the chair, lifting one arm towards him, and he stumbled into her embrace. The woman who had raised him alongside his own mother held him tightly despite his height, rubbing his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his head.

"What is it?” He asked, voice quiet in fear of waking up his friend. "How is he?”

The look in her eyes told him enough. She sat in the chair and he sat at the edge of the bed. "Not good. They don’t know yet.” She didn’t say anything when he reached for Jaren’s hand, winding their fingers together and squeezing gently. Jaren’s skin was cool but his palms were clammy. John didn’t care.

"Do we know anything?” He asked.

Aged hazel eyes shut tightly, hiding the pain. She shook her head. She had no words of reassurance. He had none either.

Five hours later, Jaren woke up. By that time his mother had gone home to fetch some things for him, John had called in to work to tell them he wouldn’t be working for some time. A nurse had come into the room periodically every two hours to recheck his vitals.

When the first entered the room, John almost begged for some level of information. Reluctance shielded tired blue eyes but the nurse gave in. She could see the pain he wore in his exhaustion. The fear for his friend, his love.

"We can’t tell much right now until we put him through a couple scans which we’ll do tonight once he wakes up. But…” that reluctance flickered, “they’re pretty sure it’s an issue with his heart.”

He wished he hadn’t asked at all.

The second nurse to come in sat beside him, a notepad out. "Hi, I'm Casey. Do you know Jaren well? Would I be able to ask you some questions about him while we wait for him to wake up?”

Of course, he complied.

"How has his health been over the past year?”

Past year? That was a long time for something to have been affecting him, for something to be dealing damage only now. John felt anxiety seep through his veins. "He’s, uh… been on asthma stuff for months now because he has issues breathing. Some doctors have said its asthma, some have said it’s not. The ventolin helps so he just has that.” She listened, writing down notes closely. "There hasn’t really been anything else that’s been a big deal for him. He can’t run around as much now as he did when we were younger, but I think that’s to do with the asthma too?”

John felt exhaustion crash over him. She could see it.

"Okay, thank you for that. Please notify us if he wakes up in the next two hours, and someone else will come in to check up on him then too.” She leaned forward, taking a hold of his hand and squeezing. "We’re going to do everything we can to find out what’s wrong, and we’ll do everything we can to get him better again.”

He watched her leave the room, murmuring a quiet: "Thank you.” And wishing that it would be that easy.

It wasn’t.

He fell asleep in the chair, arms and head on the mattress beside his sick friend and their fingers still linked. He dreamt of Jaren’s pale face on repeat, his crying, his screaming. It was awful.

When he woke up, there was a quiet voice speaking close by and warm hands were playing with the rings on his fingers. A quiet groan slipped past his lips. Someone giggled: a sound he knew all too well. When he lifted his head and wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, he couldn’t help but smile. Jaren’s beautiful brown eyes looked him over, fond and loving as he squeezed John’s hand.

"Mornin’, sleeping beauty,” he whispered and John felt warmth spread throughout his chest. Jaren turned back to the doctor who watched patiently. Her smile was encouraging but her focus returned to Jaren quickly.

"So we’ll get you in for a CT scan in about three hours and that’ll give us a better idea of what’s going on in your chest, particularly your heart.” The nurse closed her file, slipping her pen into her pocket. "Hit the call button if you’re feeling anything unusual or if you’re in an uncomfortable amount of pain, okay?”

"Thank you.” He watched her leave the room, leaving the two boys together. Dark eyes shifted back to John, a weary grin on pale lips. "Hey.”

John smiled, pain sprouting in his chest as he acknowledged the fight going on in those dark eyes. He could see the agony the boy was battling. He could see he was trying his hardest to keep up a brave face.

The hand in his tugged, leading John to move from the chair to the bed. Brown eyes studied, always staring, always analysing. John hesitated, lifting a hand. Those eyes fluttered shut as fingers carded through messy brown hair before coming to rest at Jaren’s cheek. He leaned into the touch, eyes still shut.

"Can I…?” John murmured.

Jaren’s lips twitched into a smile. "You don’t have to ask,” he whispered back.

They had never shared a kiss so emotional. Neither of them mentioned the few tears that slipped down Jaren’s cheeks. He didn’t open his eyes, not even when John pulled back. No, instead he laid back down, eyelashes fluttering with one last tear before he slipped back out of consciousness and sunk into the abyss.

With so much fear in John’s chest, he clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle his sobs and cried to the mattress until he ran out of tears.

-

The next three days were unsteady and painful. John didn’t leave the hospital, arguing with his mother four times before she finally gave in and allowed him to stay. She brought him money for food and new clothes. He didn’t leave Jaren’s side.

Speaking of which: Jaren had his CT scan. To John is was just an image of different grey shapes, blurry and indistinguishable. But to the doctors, there were issues.

And those issues weren’t new.

John hadn’t known Jaren to ever be so quiet. The second and third days since he was admitted were long and slow and silent on his behalf. He slept a lot, hardly ate, settled for watching John with big unreadable eyes rather than speaking.

But John wasn’t much of a talker. He wasn’t good at it, he wasn’t interesting, he couldn’t carry on for long conversations. So he got his mother to bring him a laptop and two pairs of headphones and the third day he got into the bed beside Jaren, plugged their headphones in and played The Lion King movie.

When the movie finished, he played music, allowing Jaren to pick through his favourite songs and play whatever he liked. With a pretty voice in their ears, the two boys stayed cuddled up together throughout the night, kissing in the dark and pretending.

Pretending they weren’t in hospital. Pretending there was no agony in Jaren’s heart. Pretending they both weren’t absolutely terrified of what was to come.

The fourth day of being at the hospital, John was listening to music and holding Jaren’s hand while he slept. Out of nowhere, brown eyes flew open and the boy sat straight upright. His hand flew to his chest, his eyes snapped to John.

Agony. Terror.

John slammed the alert button, grasping Jaren’s face in his hands. "They’re coming, they’re coming, baby. Stay with me. Jaren, stay with-“

Brown eyes rolled back and he fell to the mattress. Limp.

John’s ears were ringing. The machine was ringing. The door slammed open and several people poured into the room.

They didn’t spare a glance to John who was washed to the back, hyperventilating, gasping, choking on his sobs. An immediate decision was made, words flying between the medical professionals that John couldn’t even hear. Then Jaren was gone from the room, rushed out in the direction of the closest occupation theatre.

John’s legs buckled, sliding down the floor with his hands over his face. His chest heaved. His ears rung. His head raced. He couldn’t  _breathe_.

Jaren. Jaren. Jaren. Jaren.

The look in his eyes…

John shattered, sitting in the corner of the suffocating hospital room.

-

A nurse found him rather quickly, shaking and sobbing in the empty room. She had been one of the regulars who checked up on Jaren, sent to find the boy’s companion. She sat in front of him on the floor for an hour, holding his hand and mumbling soft words to him.

"He is going to be okay. They’ve done rushed operations like this millions of times before. He’ll be okay, he’ll be back here sooner than you know, he’ll be okay.”

When his breathing slowed itself back down and his sobs soothed to quiet crying, he just sat and cried and listened to the nurse.

"Would you like me to explain what happened to Jaren?” She offered, still rubbing her thumb back and forth along the back of his hand. He nodded, still shaking. "There was a blockage in the arteries in his heart muscle. And without oxygen, the heart muscle begins to die, stopping the heart from being able to pump correctly. That’s what happened to Jaren, so what the doctors will do is put is tiny little tube down there, get it in to the artery and inflate a little balloon in there to clear it out and allow for blood flow to continue. It’s a common procedure, they’ll have it done and Jaren will be just fine, okay?”

John listened, making as much sense of the medical talk as he could. The panic in his chest slowly quietened. Knowing that it wasn’t an uncommon situation was relieving. Knowing that Jaren was going to be okay was a huge weight off his shoulders.

He just wanted to see his friend again.

And he did, fortunately. With a live, beating heart too. John woke up that night to the same nurse shaking his shoulder. “John,” she whispered. Her smile had excitement lifting in his chest. “Jaren’s back in his room if you want to see him. He’s asleep for the moment but he probably won’t be for long-“

John jumped to his feet before she could even finish, wide awake in seconds and already heading to the hallway. "Thank you,” he called back and smiled at her following laughter as it chased him down the hall.

“John!” There was nothing less than glee, Jaren going to sit upright only to fall back due to the wires attached to his arm. His eyes glowed, hiding his exhaustion. John shut the door behind him. "I missed you!”

Despite the tubes and the machines and everything wrapped around him, Jaren shifted to the side to make room for John. Who was he to refuse? "How do you feel?” He asked, slipping an arm around Jaren’s shoulders. The boy flinched but didn’t say a word about it.

"Weird.” Thin fingers fiddled with John’s silver rings. "It’s odd to think I had something messing around in my heart, but I'm glad it was.”

John snorted. "Yeah, me too, dipshit. You scared the fuck out me.” His joking words faltered, feeling his own heart ache as he replayed the look in Jaren’s eyes.

Those same eyes flickered with a frown. "What happened? I… can’t remember it.”

John smiled, bittersweet taste on his tongue. "You, uh… woke up out of nowhere and- and grabbed at your chest. You just looked so te- terrified and…” he cleared his throat, "It scared me, I didn’t know what happened. I didn’t know if you’d be okay.”

Jaren lifted a weak hand up, fingers catching John’s jaw and turning his face. Brown eyes caught his. “John.” Sincere. Open. "I’m okay now.” He pressed a kiss to John’s lips. "I’m here, I'm okay,” he murmured the words into the kiss.

"Okay,” John whispered, running fingers through Jaren’s hair.

He savoured each and every kiss. They fell asleep, tangled up entirely with one another.

-

It was Jaren’s birthday on the fifth day at the hospital. He turned eighteen, spent the morning with family and was told by a doctor that he had only a number of days before his heart would fail and he would die.

He cried into John’s shoulder for two hours, watched The Lion King with him for a second time and listened to music as they watched the sun go down out the window. John waited until Jaren had fallen asleep against his shoulder before he let his own tears start to fall. He didn’t let himself think until it was dark and quiet and Jaren was breathing softly against his neck. He didn’t want Jaren to see how ruined he was.

But how could he keep it together?

Less than a week, they’d been told. Less than seven days. Then Jaren would… Jaren would die, would be gone, would disappear from John’s existence like he’d never been there. But he  _had_  been there. Every single day, he’d been there. Years, on years, on years of being side by side, of being one half of a whole.

He was losing his other half.

On Jaren’s first day of being eighteen, he begged a nurse to find them a board game, any board game. They were brought back some dusty old box with trivia cards and a worn-down board to play on. The game went on for four hours, from seven in the morning when the two were wide awake. John played their favourite songs from when they were younger on the small speaker his mother brought along. They jammed out to music as they played the silly game, Jaren shamelessly destroying John despite his best efforts.

It took a while but he relaxed. He let his mind drift. He let himself have fun and forget the little countdown that had been placed above his head. Jaren begged the nurses to let him go for a walk, desperate to get out of that room. He didn’t voice why – they knew.

Spending his last few days in that same small room: he couldn’t do it.

So perhaps out of pity, they let the two go. John helped Jaren dress, the boy’s body so weak he couldn’t pull his clothes on himself. He sat himself in a wheelchair and the two were off; no restrictions to where they could go within the hospital.

"So, my good gentleman. Where to, on this fine evening?” John’s shitty attempt at a british accent had Jaren’s lips forming a smirk, but the boy didn’t spoil it.

He crossed one leg over the other, straightening his back as much as he could and pouting his lips dramatically. "I do think we should venture to the highest height of this, uh… of our accommodation… do you have the strength to take me where I wish to go?” He asked, tipping his head back to look at the grinning boy upside-down.

"You damn know I do.” With an otherwise empty hallway, there was no one to complain as John took off running towards the end. Jaren threw his head back in a laugh, gripping the arm rests tightly as John swerved from side-to-side.

He laughed all the air from his lungs and wheezed painfully trying to get it all back but the grin on his face showed he didn’t care for the pain. "Reckless driving! You’re definitely speeding and- and if you don’t slow down… you’re gonna get fined!”

The giggles were hysterical. Both of them being absolutely ridiculous as Jaren leaned forward and tapped the elevator button at least thirty times. When the doors opened they were ecstatic to find it empty. John allowed Jaren the honours of hitting the button with the number ten on it before spinning his chair around and leaning over him.

The doors shut. "Ever wanted to make out in an elevator?” John asked, brows wiggling suggestively. Jaren’s laugh bounced around them, grin too big for his face. His hands grabbed at the front of John’s shirt.

"Not in a wheelchair,” he whispered, but his attempt at a joke missed as John shrugged, grin just as wide. He slid his hands down Jaren’s waist, slipping them under the boy’s thighs. With one big heave, he pulled him up out of the wheelchair. “John!” Jaren’s laughter was  _beautiful_. His arms grasped John’s shoulders in his imbalance but John was careful and gave him the space and time to link his legs around his waist. John pressed him against the elevator wall, their bodies fitting firmly together. Jaren played with John’s hair, head tilting and eyes glowing. "This is more like it,” he said.

John kissed him the way he knew Jaren wanted to be kissed: open, eager and with enough pressure to make him forget who he was. "You’re beautiful,” he murmured, pressing the words to Jaren’s lips. The sick boy tipped his head back with a breathless laugh. “absolutely”—John’s lips travelled down Jaren’s neck, tattooing each word to the skin—“fucking perfect.”

“John,” something between a gasp and a moan. Jaren tugged on John’s hair. "C’mon, you can- you can kiss me more like this tonight.”

He lifted his head again to seal his lips to Jaren’s, savouring the taste of him, savouring how he felt. When they split, he noticed the way Jaren’s breathing rasped but didn’t mention it. He could see that Jaren wanted to pretend. And if that’s what would make him happy, John wasn’t going to make this any harder for him.

The elevator dinged and John placed Jaren carefully back in his chair. The eighteen-year old couldn’t remove the grin from his face.

He clapped his hands twice. "On we go!” He declared.

John bit back his laugh, pushing and pulling Jaren back and forth as he made ridiculously inaccurate motorbike noises, “revving” Jaren up before shoving him forwards and running down the hall as fast as he could.

Jaren howled with laughter. John’s heart bloomed.

"Stop!”

John obeyed, perhaps a little too roughly as Jaren gasped, coughing hard and rough. It passed in a few moments, neither paying it mind. Jaren instead pointed to a door right near the end of the corridor.

 **Roof access**.

"No.”

"Definitely.” Jaren tipped his head back to grin at John, big eyes pleading. He reached up and tugged on his love’s sleeve. "Pleease!” He begged. "C’mon, I have  _nothing_  to lose and it’ll be so much fun up there! We’ll be able to watch the sunset too-“

John sighed. "If I get sent to jail, you better come back and haunt my guard so he bails me out, okay?”

A soft giggle. "Okay!”

There was no way John would have been able to say no to him anyway.

He pushed the door handle, surprised it was unlocked. Someone must have made a mistake there but neither boy was complaining as the tall staircase came into view. Jaren pulled the door shut behind them, held tightly in John’s arms as the boy hiked up the stairs to the top. He was careful not to stumble or cause any discomfort.

And when Jaren pushed the top door open, both of them agreed in silence that it was worth the risk of trouble. The hospital was the tallest building in the area and they could see the entire sky above them including the growing discoloration that followed the sun in her descent.

"Woah…” Jaren stared. Awed.

John walked across the flat expanse of the roof, very careful about sitting Jaren on the edge facing inwards. When he got himself comfortable with his legs hanging down over the lip of the roof, he held Jaren tightly while he swivelled around to do the same. One arm stayed curled around the ill boy’s waist and after a few moments, his head came to rest gently against John’s shoulder.

"It’s perfect,” he whispered.

"I know.” John pressed a kiss to Jaren’s forehead. "You are.”

They stayed out on the roof for an hour. The colours bloomed across the sky. The sun sunk down out of sight. The colours faded. And one by one, each pretty little glimmer lit up in the dark sky above.

When Jaren yawned, John decided they’d been out long enough. He pulled his boy back up into his arms, carrying him back downstairs and wheeling him slowly down the quiet halls.

He left a trail of tears behind him.

Once back in their room, he placed Jaren back into his bed and moved to leave the room as to not disturb Jaren in his crying. A hand caught his shirt before he could. "Don’t leave.” A broken whisper. Vulnerable.

There was nothing to hide in the dark.

"Stay. Please. Let me-…” he let out a shaky exhale, eyes glimmering with tears. "Kiss me until I forget that I'm dying… please.”

So he did. John fit himself between Jaren’s legs, fingers tugging at his hair as he poured his heart into every single touch, every soft whisper, every time his lips touched Jaren’s skin. They lost their clothes in the mix of it, lost track of time, lost track of where they were. With John’s lips on his, Jaren could think of nothing else.

That was the way he wanted it to be. John. Only John. Always John.

When they laid together beneath the blankets later, Jaren sobbed into John’s shoulder until he tired and passed out from exhaustion. John didn’t stop him, he didn’t speak, he didn’t soothe.

Some wounds couldn’t be healed.

He held him. Ran his fingers through his hair. Kissed away his tears. And once he’d fallen asleep John pressed a final kiss to his forehead and murmured: "I love you,” to the silence that cradled them both.

-

Jaren’s second day of being eighteen consisted of waking up in John’s arms to a dull pain in his chest and a cloudy feeling in his head. John had already been awake, staring up at the ceiling so lost in thoughts he only acknowledged Jaren when the boy rolled off him.

"We both need showers,” he mumbled, body jerking as he coughed into his arm. The sound was violent. John tried not to visibly flinch.

But he was right. They both smelt bad and Jaren’s bedsheets really needed changing. Collecting the rough towels they were given, John called for a nurse and apologised with a red face for the mess. She waved them off and he locked the two of them away in the little bathroom.

John got busy filling up the bath.

"How do you feel?”

Jaren’s response was a lazy hum, playing with the water they laid in. He leant back against John’s chest, the warm water addictingly soothing. "Sleepy,” seemed to be the only answer he had and John nodded in thought.

"The guys messaged.” He kissed Jaren’s shoulder. "They said they wanted to see you if you wanna hang out with them for an hour?”

A soft giggle floated from his lips. "That’d be fun.”

"They miss us.”

"Mm… I miss them too.”

"So do I.”

By the time John helped Jaren back out of the bath, their fingers were wrinkled and Jaren was practically asleep as John towelled him dry. Back in their room with fresh sheets, John helped him into comfortable pants and a big shirt. He ignored the lack of fat on his body, ribs and hip bones jutting out more than John had ever seen them.

Jaren had stopped eating. The nurses said it was normal.

Two hours later of listening to music and telling each other stupid jokes, the boys arrived and all of them piled into the room. The second Jaren glanced around at all of them, the big smile on his face crumpled and he broke.

Confusion spread. John felt sick. "You guys don’t… shit.” No one told them.

Jaren shook his head, sniffling and trying to force back his sobs. "It- it’s okay, John. I didn’t expect- it’s- it’s okay.”

Toby stepped up to Jaren’s side, taking his hand. His big blue eyes glowed in concern. "What is it, Jaren?”

"Oh god.” Jay gripped Matt’s arm tightly. "Something’s wrong.”

Jaren took a moment, wheezing as he tried to take a deep breath. He stared down at his lap when he spoke. "My heart muscle is damaged and… my-… my heart’s going to fail in the next couple of days.”

John felt agony explode in every person in the room.

"No, no, no. That can’t be true, this can’t be real.” Jay’s hands flew to his hair, eyes blown wide. Tears welled up in Mason’s eyes as he stared, looking to John in horror, in hopes of him revealing that it wasn’t true, that Jaren was going to be okay.

John stared at his hands. Eric cursed: "Shit.” He turned to face the wall, ducking his head. His fists clenched. "Fuck!” He shouted and Cam turned to him, grabbing his hands to stop him from punching a wall. The blonde was pale, chilled to the bone at the thought. Matt pulled Mason in for a hug, the boy sobbing quietly. Toby couldn’t choke back his tears.

Jaren sobbed into his hands. "I- I'm sorry-“

Jay dragged himself up onto Jaren’s bed, sitting on his knees beside him. With tears streaming down his face, he grabbed Jaren by the arms and pulled him upright. Thin fingers grasped the black jacket and Jay threw his arms around the dying boy. "Don’t apologise. Don’t apologise, don’t say sorry, don’t feel- don’t feel bad for being so unlucky.”

Jaren trembled.

"We’re here to see you. We’re here because we missed you and- and this is so…  _fucking_  awful. Bu- but we’re here to see you and- and if you have so little time left we better make that little time good, we have to make this day incredible, okay?” Toby’s words were shaken.

But he spoke openly and the rest of the boys managed murmurs or nods of agreement. No one can prepare a nineteen year old to lose one of his closest friends. None of these boys were ready to deal with something so difficult but they agreed with toby. There was nothing in crying and screaming and cursing whatever god may be out there.

If they could make Jaren smile and laugh, that was what they would do.

And so they did what they’d been doing best since they’d all come together: caused mayhem. They all vanished from the room in search of food at one point, leaving Jaren, Jay and John to sit around together for half an hour (which was far too long to be waiting for food, mind you).

But being the legend he was, Jay had brought a pack of uno cards to which they started their own game on Jaren’s bed. When the boys all returned, Jaren could not stop laughing. Completely disregarding their current game of uno, Eric dropped at least one of every possible purchase from the cafeteria onto the bed.

It was  _far_  too much food for eight boys and there was no hesitation as they all tore into it as if starving. Jaren just watched, smile stuck on his face as his friends ate with absolutely no care for manners and fought over every little thing they could possibly argue about.

Jaren barely felt the growing pain in his heart.

When the food was all finished (or packed away for the boys to take home), Cam and Matt got rid of it and they all crowded around Jaren’s bed to play uno. Eric vanished for two minutes at the beginning, reappearing in the room with a whole stack of chairs for everyone. He didn’t say a word about how he got them and the other boys new better than to ask.

They played for three hours and although Jaren remained rather quiet, there was no change in their behaviour. They pretended nothing was different and he  _loved_  it. He wanted things to stay that way forever, in those moments.

When the regular nurse stopped by, it was an understatement to say she was shocked to find an extra six boys in the room with John and Jaren. Jaren couldn’t stop snickering as Eric and Mason competed (badly) as they tried to flirt with her and plead her for her number. Cam shoved Mason off his chair when he commented on the girl’s nurse uniform, holding him by his ear until he was spouting apologies.

All of them rioted as she scribbled her number down on  _Cam’s_  arm. Eric laid on the floor face down for three more rounds and Mason didn’t lose his pout until he won a game of his own and earned back some of his pride.

When it came to evening, it all came crashing back down.

Jaren cried harder than he ever had as each boy hugged him tightly a number of times. It was too surreal, too unbelievable. Not one of them could seriously believe this boy that they adored was dying. They all left slowly, reluctantly. They didn’t stop crying. They couldn’t.

John climbed into Jaren’s bed and pulled him into his lap. The crying was raw. It was brutal and unrestrainable. His chest heaved. His whole body shook like a leaf. "It hurts so much,” he forced out, gasping each breath in with desperation. "It hurts so f- fucking much.”

"I’m sorry,” John whispered, his tears falling to Jaren’s hair. "I’m sorry I can’t… stop the pain. I’m sorry I can’t take it for you. I’m sorry that this- that this is happening to you- fuck.” Jaren sobbed, turning his face up to John’s. John held his face still wiping the tears away. He pressed his lips to Jaren’s. Steady. Determined. Desperate. When he broke away, he couldn’t stop the sob from tearing up out of his throat. "I’m so sorry.”

He would do anything –  _anything_  – to take that pain away from Jaren. To be able to kiss him and heal him. To be able to love him and save him. To be able to do  _anything_.

"I love you.” The words tumbled from his lips and he didn’t stop himself. He didn’t cut them off, he didn’t hide it, he didn’t avoid it. Jaren’s eyes shimmered, John resting their foreheads together. "I love you,” he said again.

"I know-“

"No, Ren. Listen to me, please. I- I love you and I haven’t… told you that enough. I haven’t been as serious as I should have been. I haven’t given you the love that you deserve-“

“John,” Jaren cut him off, cupping his face with a weak smile. "I know.”

"I’ve been in love with you for years.” He pushed on, holding those dark eyes, holding that beautiful face in his hands. "Years, and years, and years, and- we didn’t  _need_  to talk about it because it was perfect. You… are perfect… but we should have. I should have. Because I love you, I am  _so_  in love with you and I should have made it a bigger deal, I should have told you more, told you sooner. I- I love you like you’re supposed to love a girlfriend…” he opened himself up, peeled away any defensive walls. His words threw them back, put them back in that tree, took the last week of agony away like it had never been there.

"I can’t be a girlfriend when I'm not a girl,” Jaren whispered, response awed as he lost himself in John’s eyes. The pain in his chest faded out of his thoughts.

"Then- then be my boyfriend.”

Jaren sobbed, tears falling faster. They couldn’t stop his smile. "Okay,” he whispered.

Night fell around the hospital. Darkness drew in like fog beneath the door and through the glass. Jaren cried as the pain in his chest bloomed bigger and louder and stretched. Through every vein and artery. John held him. A piece of himself was dying too.

"I love you,” he’d whispered, the two lying facing each other, foreheads together. One of Jaren’s hands held onto John’s, the other gripped his own shirt right above his heart. His eyes stayed shut.

"I love you.” Rasped. Wheezing. But real. True. Honest.

"I love you,” John repeated, voice cracking. Jaren’s sobs slowed, quietened. His trembling stopped, sleep overcame the small, dying boy. John pressed a kiss to the wet cheekbone of his love, his best friend, his boyfriend; before he too gave way to exhaustion.

2:24am. John woke up. The hand in his was cold. The machines around them were still and silent. The boy he had fallen in love with over his nineteen years of life was still. His heart was silent.

 


End file.
